Name: My Bloody Valentine

Rating: PG-11

Summary: Warren and Layla just wanted to spend Valentine's Day without interruption; just go to dinner, no questions asked. But then they run into Will and everything falls apart. When Baron Battle comes for Will, Warren has to make a choice. Will he let Will die or will he betray his father and send him back to jail?

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. The lyrics sampled below belong to Good Charlotte.

Authors Note: This is my first Sky High fanfiction so please don't flame me.

Warning: Character death!

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Oh, my love
Please don't cry
I'll wash my bloody hands and
We'll start a new life
I don't know much at all
I don't know wrong from right
All I know is that I love you tonight

The two always managed to make an interesting sight. Here was the bad boy of Sky High, the pyrokenetic son born to a super hero and a super villain, beaming happily at the hippie junior over the flickers of candlelight.

He'd cleaned up tonight for her, his hair loosely tied back, stripped of his leather jacket and wrist cuffs, now only baring a smile. He watched her talk excitedly, chuckling to himself, his eyes memorizing her, how her lips formed each word before growing and how her red hair perfectly framed her face. His ember eyes, normally so full of hate and the desire for revenge, were now tinted with something completely different—adoration for this woman in front of him. He sprinkled his fingertips on her hand, caressing the soft skin with a harmless touch. She bit her lip, a blush rising on her cheeks, closing her eyes at the tingle that shot through her body.

His hands didn't burn her anymore and she didn't force a smile with him to win someone else. After the event's two years ago at Homecoming, a mysterious bond had formed between the two, building so strong that it was impenetrable. They became gossip and, honestly, the oddest couple anyone had ever seen. Suddenly, he was her protector, tearing down anyone that messed with her, and she was his anchor that kept him grounded. She was the only person he liked and the only one that could calm him down. After a while, he began to smile around her, shattering a once tough guy persona. He still was that guy, but he was someone else entirely with her.

Who would have thought that the red-streaked badass would fall for the vegetarian hippie? After coming back from summer break, most of the school had taken a notice to Warren Peace's abrupt change around this girl, a newly converted hero named Layla, causing quite a stir around the campus. It wasn't until both of them had broken up with their dating partners in the same week that these rumors were fueled. Within three weeks they were spotted everywhere together and were officially discovered as dating. Rumors flew around about the cause of the break-ups, but it was more than simple: the two wanted to be with one another and couldn't be if they were tied down to other people. Spies knew it wasn't rare to see Warren lay a kiss on her cheek or to see Layla wearing his leather jacket. After a while it became normal for them.

They'd been together for over a year and a half.

Tonight they were celebrating their second Valentine's Day together, tucked away in a small, private restaurant that Layla's mother owned. Now that Warren was a senior and graduating in a few short months, they had made it a priority to cherish as much time together as possible; after all, Warren was going to be leaving soon.

An older woman with dark red hair walked past, eyeing the couple with a secret smile. Layla narrowed her eyes at her mother for spying, but was happy to see her smiling at them. Luckily, she had been one of the few that had been open to their relationship, who didn't judge, but accepted their decision. Warren slipped his hand under Layla's, his large hand transforming into only an outline under her delicate one. They kissed.

Warren hovered close to her. "You ready to head out?"

"Yeah." Layla responded.

Warren squeezed her hand and led her to the door, making sure she grabbed her purse. The couple waved goodbye to Layla's mother, and disappeared into the night. Warren gripped her hand tightly, his protectiveness baring itself in the dark alley. Though, once they entered into a busy street ransacked with people darting to retrieve last second gifts or spending the night with the one they loved, the blue glow of street lamps coating them, Warren relaxed. His hold loosened slightly, looking around as people pushed past him.

Layla watched him, how—as a greedy man shoved past them, slamming Warren into Layla—his eyes burned and his jaw clenched. She knew that look, she'd become quite capable to read him; he wasn't going to let that guy get away. Before he could detach his hand from hers, she used her fingers to stroke his knuckles, rubbing the bone underneath his molten skin. Her eyes quivered as he progressed this. Slowly, that fire extinguished and his muscles unclenched. He sighed, calm.

He looked down at her. He knew he was known as a hothead to pretty much everyone and it was very easy for him to just snap, his rage taking control over him to destroy anything, or anyone, around him. But, as he let Layla break down the walls he had built when his father had left, she found the trick to helping him contain himself. She had just performed such an act. Only her touch could simmer the fire, only her words could rationalize him and only her heart could melt him.

She brought their hands up and examined his tattoo as they walked through the streets. Carefully, her fingers roved over his wrist then arm, brushing across the orange ink patterned in flames that had faded against his dark skin. He had the same tattoo on each arm, beginning at the pulse point of his wrist and extending nearly to his elbow. She'd found she liked it, the light contrast of the pyro against his dark demeanor. Then again, she didn't see him like everyone else. To her, he was just a great guy stuck with a bad reputation.

Warren unlaced their fingers and wound his arm around Layla's shoulder, hugging her close to his body. She bent her arm and lightly rested her hand on his arm, holding it there.

He leaned in close, his breath on her ear. "You're beautiful."

Layla smiled, looking at the sidewalk for a minute, feeling Warren kiss the side of her head. Her head whirled around, hair slapping her cheeks, and stared at him. He kissed the tip of her nose, causing her face to scrunch up at the abnormal tickle the gesture produced, then ventured down to capture her lips on his. It was brief, but real.

Layla tilted her head. She mouthed 'I love you.' He mouthed it back, adding his affectionate name for her at the end. She giggled and wrapped her arm around his waist, focusing on straight ahead, marveling in the feeling of being this close to him. For such a long time she thought she loved Will Stronghold, but then Warren had sat with her at the Paper Lantern where he worked and had talked to her, feeding her a fortune about true love and heavy hearts, and she'd realized Will was an infatuation. She had fallen in love with Warren Peace. He was different, the anti-hero, and that was more real to her than anything else.

Their perfect night was suddenly shattered by a scream. Both stopped. Layla narrowed her eyes ahead, oblivious to Warren asking where that had come from. It resounded again, this time chorused with a few extras, then an eruption followed. Both saw an orange and red flash appear in the sky and zeroed in on its place of production. On the next street, a crowd had gathered. Layla and Warren set off in a dead run. There was another eruption as a parked car burst into flames; the crowd scattered, running for their lives in the opposite direction. This slowed Warren and Layla, now that they had to push past the fleeing bystanders.

Warren grabbed Layla's hand and dragged her through the stampede, forcing her to run faster. Then they were there. Layla's eyes widened. Before her was her ex-boyfriend, Will, surrounded by fire, gravely outmatched by the man advancing on him. Debris was scattered everywhere, adding fuel to the already apparent chaos. Will was alone in this fight, but who was the man?

Then she heard Warren take in a sharp breath. Layla opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but Warren beat her. He took a step forward. "Dad!"

Dad, Layla questioned. Her eyes grew wider at the realization. "That means…Oh my God." she breathed.

Baron Battle, super villain and Warren's father, created a ring around Will, who was attempting to scurry away on his back. Layla could see he was growing weak. He had a large gash above his eyebrow, spilling blood into his eye, and his clothes were singed and torn, remnants from an unfair war. He scrambled for his life, trying to use some of his powers, but it was useless. He was on his back in a second, Baron's foot on his throat, choking him. Will grabbed his foot to throw him off, but he was too weak. It wasn't possible.

Layla was frozen. What could she do to help? Her mind drew a blank canvas, no answer, nothing. Her friend was going to die and she wasn't moving. What kind of hero was she? Then, Warren stepped up.

"Dad," he bellowed. He glanced at Layla next to him and jerked his head to the side, indicating something. Layla nodded and crept off to the side. "Don't do this."

Baron looked over his shoulder, recognizing his son for the first time. He swallowed, straightening, but he didn't let Will up. Layla waited to the side, watching Warren interact with his father. She studied Baron Battle. She now saw where Warren got most of his looks and attitude. Baron was tall and muscular like Warren, but had blond hair while Warren had black.

Baron sneered. "Son! Come on, help me!" He stomped on Will's throat harder, making him gag. "We can take him down, you and me, together."

Warren unleashed his arms to his side, readying in his battle stance, and growled. Clenching his fist, his arms engulfed in flames. "I can't let you do that."

Baron stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed. He released Will and faced his son. Father to son, a match to end it all. "What are you doing?" Baron yelled. "You're going to choose a Stronghold over me?"

"No…" Warren's eyes darted behind Baron to Layla who had grabbed Will's arm and hauled him to the side. She was intently watching him now. "I choose her over you."

Baron fused, his body turning into a human torch, fire as his skeleton, and charged Warren. Warren threw two fireballs at Baron, but they barely did anything. He was tackled to the ground, fire from both pyro's fuming together to create one large ball. Baron grabbed Warren's throat and squeezed, purposely choking him. Warren grabbed Baron's wrist, feeling himself getting dizzy. He was losing oxygen and fast. Layla screamed, standing, and tried to run to Warren, but Will held her back. Tears sprang in her eyes, her hand covering her lips at the sight of the man she loved slowly being choked to death.

"Warren! Warren!" she screamed, her voice breaking into anguished sobs. She turned to Will, grasping his arm painfully. "Please do something. He can't last much longer. Will, do something!"

Will stammered, lost at what to do. "I can't—I don't…"

"He's going to die!"

Will ground his teeth and nodded, a plan working in his mind. He whispered in Layla's ear; she nodded. Smashing his lips together in a determined pout, he leapt into the air, gathering strength, and crashed down. A sonic wave rippled through the earth, a vibration rocketing forward so the ground underneath Baron crumbled, throwing him off balance. It worked. Baron simmered down to his human form and turned around, forgetting Warren for the time being.

"Come for a second fight, have we?" Baron pursued.

Before he could move a step, vines coiled around his body, capturing him in its hold. The veins wound around his legs and arms, attaching the limbs close to the body. Layla's eyes were white, an incredible wind forcing Baron onto his back. Warren managed to stand, shielding his eyes from the bright light resounding from behind Layla. A proud smile slipped onto his lips.

Baron, on the other hand, merely smirked. The veins burst into flames, now black and dead, and fell to the ground. "Do you know who you're playing, little girl?"

Eyes like coal, Baron stalked towards Layla. In a last attempt, Will ran forward but was knocked down by a fireball that caught him in the chest. Layla gulped.

"Don't you touch her!" Warren yelled, suddenly jumping onto his father's back.

Being a pyro had its advantages, Warren realized. He grabbed his father's face, slapping his palms against his cheeks, and raised his body temperature slowly. His hands turned red as heat radiated from his hands onto Baron's cheeks, causing his face to blister instantly. It was torture. He cried in agony. But one powerful blow sent Warren flying backward into a car, the metal crunching behind him. He slumped to the pavement.

Layla gasped and ran to him, but Baron captured her by the throat. He lifted her off the ground, bringing her above him to watch her pain as her soul was choked out of her. She stared down at him, unconsciousness looming on the horizon, her lips opened in an 'o' as croaks came out. He looked beaten after Warren's torture. Rupturing blisters, glistening red with pus, were splattered over his face, popping and boiling over the blackened scarring.

She closed her eyes, waiting for more to come. But Baron only grunted. "I have no use for you." he seethed.

He tossed her to the ground, leaving her crumbled form on the marred pavement, and looked around for Will. He was no where in sight. He trooped off to something else. Layla watched him, tears in her eyes, gasping for air. This isn't going to end, she thought sadly. Not ever.

"Layla."

She looked over and saw Warren dragging over to her, limping as his hand held his left leg. She gasped; there was a rusted pole with jagged endsin his leg. He collapsed next to her, cupping her face immediately and smearing off the blood on her lip. He kept asking if she was okay, but she never answered. She brushed his hair out of his face, her fingers now sticky from the sheen of sweat on his face, and asked him the same question. Her eyes found the wound in his leg. She reached to touch it, wanting to yank it out so he would heal, but he pulled her hand back.

"I'm fine, it's okay. But we have to leave, right now." he informed her.

"But your dad—"

"It doesn't matter. We have to go—"

"Warren, look out!" Layla suddenly screamed.

Warren looked up to where she was pointing and saw a car hurling at them, its fiery self in the air and coming straight on top of them. Warren instinctively pushed Layla to the ground and covered her body with his. Layla, realizing this could possibly be the end, buried her face in Warren's bloody shirt, and held onto him tightly. He whispered to her, knowing that any second from now that car would come crashing down on them. He kissed her, taking her mind off of what was coming and centering it on them and what they were.

Except it never came.

Tentatively, Warren opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. Layla looked up. A smile washed over her face. Will stood above them, balancing the fiery car over them. Despite his condition, he was smiling.

"Will you two please move." he suggested.

Warren rolled out from under the car, grasping Layla to him so she came with. They stopped a foot away, Warren holding Layla's hand on his chest while she lay on top of him. They stared at each other for a second; they'd just almost died. Warren muttered a curse. Layla got off of him hurriedly and helped him up, not letting his hand go. They came face to face with Will who was still holding the car.

Baron was gone.

Warren knew it instantly; he was about to collapse. The fire was burning his hands, melting his flesh so he winced painfully, hissing between his teeth. Even as a super hero he could lose and even die and, as it appeared now, he was losing his strength…fast.

"Will, put it down!" Layla ordered, gesturing to emphasize the demand.

"He doesn't have the strength, Layla." Warren said softly.

Layla shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. Will couldn't give up, he just couldn't. He couldn't die. "No." she sobbed.

"Don't try to help me, Layla." Will winced as blood trickled down his arm, a stream of fire going with it. He felt like his whole body was on fire. He couldn't take this any longer. He looked at Warren. "Warren, I need you to take care of Layla. Treat her right. Keep her safe. Even if she somehow drives you nuts. And, Layla, keep him calm. You're the only one that can. Be there for each other. You're meant to be together." He winced again, feeling the fire ignite on his shirt, pealing at his shoulder. "God, this really hurts."

"Will, please. Try." Layla begged, restraining herself from rushing Will.

His knees were getting weak, about to collapse. "I'm sorry."

Will Stronghold disappeared underneath the fiery car, his voice vanishing in the night air. Layla screamed. New tears spilled down her cheeks, sobs wracking her small body. Warren stared at the car, knowing Will was under there, and fought his own tears. How could this happen? He snapped his eyes shut and pulled Layla away. She couldn't be there, not near the ashes.

Warren held Layla, one hand rubbing her back while the other clutched her head to his chest, and let her cry, sinking into his arms. Her hand was over her lips, holding Warren's arm. This was too real, such a tragedy their eyes had to watch. Warren shushed his girlfriend, cradling her, but it wasn't doing much help. He looked around wildly as flashes of red and blue light enclosed them, sirens ringing in his ears. They were circled by police cars.

Layla sank to the ground, Warren coming with her. He held her in his lap, laying his cheek in her hair. His eyes flickered up to the burning car. The intensity of the flames licked the black night, all comfort and familiarity destroyed in twenty minutes of war. Fire suddenly had a new meaning; death. He just now realized it.

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FIN